


Superheated Agonies

by BoWritesShit



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Guilt, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 03:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoWritesShit/pseuds/BoWritesShit
Summary: Legasov was going to pace a hole through the floor at this rate.





	Superheated Agonies

They had been up for too long, too many days and nights poring over paperwork, their professional efficacy reducing in inverse proportion to how long they had been awake. Boris had wanted to pack it in more than a handful of times but the quietly manic energy emanating from the other man kept him at it. He fell asleep a few times, nodding off with his chin on his chest only to jerk awake and find Legasov still staring into the data abyss.

Sometimes he would stay in one spot for what seemed like hours and then he would be taken by agitation, pacing the room, going outside and pacing around the trailer, back inside again, mouthing things to himself that Boris could never catch, too occupied with the way his hands kept moving, flicking the edges of the papers, combing almost frantically through his pale hair, tugging occasionally at a tie he had loosened long ago, a collar he had unbuttoned and re-buttoned in fluctuating propriety. He had chewed and picked at his thin bottom lip until the centre of it showed a crack of dark red and Boris had watched in silence until he couldn't anymore.

"Stop." he said.

It took a few moments to register, Legasov mid-step with his hand buried in his hair, and he kept it there as he finally looked up, blinking sticky eyes at Boris.

"What?" he asked, and Boris wondered if he had any idea.

"You need to sleep." he concluded, and he watched as Valery's face creased with annoyance, his mouth opening to protest, led first by a hand to conduct the overture of his discontent, but Boris stared him in the face and watched the hand lower, the mouth snap shut, the eyes dart away. Good. 

"You need to sleep." he repeated, getting to his feet, crossing over to Legasov, stepping into his field, putting out an expectant hand. The chemist looked at it, confusion evident, then up to Boris, seeking out further instructions, then looking to the papers he had battered for hours on end. There was a long pause, Boris' open hand and Valery's clutching one and then the exchange occurred, the papers were in his possession, and Shcherbina tucked them under his arm, Legasov's eyes tracking them as he turned away, crossing the room.

He poured two glasses, leaning heavily into Legasov's, bringing him one.

"It's early." Valery said, a gentle protest, and Boris flicked the bottom of the glass. Valery pressed his lips together, the corners curving downwards as he eyed him, cocked his head, and then drank it anyways, Boris mirroring him.

"You can't save anyone if you can't function." Boris said.

"To the contrary, I keep condemning them." Valery replied, looking into his glass.

Boris hadn't missed that Legasov was the first one to make the call that no one else wanted to make - the most hardened military men had resisted saying it first, even knowing what had to be done. In a room of uniforms, it was Valery who kept saying it: send men. He couldn't enact the decision, but he was the one who let everyone else off the hook by making it his idea, and Boris knew exactly why: it saved time. The sooner he said it, the sooner things got done, regardless of how much it pained him - and it did, stoic or not, Legasov's agonies were superheated, but unspoken.

"You can't think like that."

"And yet." Legasov said, tucking his fingers under his glasses to rub at his raw red eyes, "How can one not, Boris? It's over four hundred men -"

"Fifty percent is an unacceptable risk." Boris interrupted, "You know that. They do, too."

"But they don't know, do they? Not really." 

He knew what Legasov meant.

"It's what must be done." Boris replied.

"What must be done." his tone was bitter, like he wanted to spit the words onto the ground and be done with them, and he startled when Boris' hand landed heavy on him, grabbing the curve between neck and shoulder almost painfully, giving him a single hard shake, a sway back and forth, unnaturally strong for his age. It was a hand that would have destabilized even the steadiest man and Legasov had never been one of those, so he had to take hold of Boris' forearm for balance, regarding him with round eyes.

He was startled by the gentleness he found in Boris' face, his eyes set soft in spite of being framed by hard features, and the tenderness of it embarrassed Legasov more deeply than he had words for.

"It's what's done." he said, and gave his shoulder another squeeze, a hard pat that made the chemist flinch and jerk, and then they were separate again, Boris passing by him with the papers still secured, his low voice trailing behind him, "Go to bed, Valera."

Legasov stared at nothing for a while, then finally exhaled.


End file.
